PKMN Vent Drabbles

Every storm runs, runs out of rain
Just like every dark night turns into day
Every heartache will fade away
Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain....

    #1.
      “Cilan!” whispered Cress urgently, running up to his brother and holding a hand over his right eye. “It stings again.”
      A look of worry crossed the small green-haired boy’s face. He crossed the room to reach his brother and guided him up the stairs of the Gym to their family room, then on into the bathroom. Chili, confused, followed the pair.
      The storm outside raged on, like a violent battle was taking place in the night clouds. Cilan looked over his shoulder and out the window to see if their adopted parents were homebound yet, but the think sheets of rain and hail pounded the windows, the roar of the tempest covering up the screams and battlecries from the fighting creatures out in the Striaton night.
      Retrieving the bottle of eyedrops from the cabinet, Cilan coaxed Cress’s hand from over his eye and placed it on the boy’s Panpour, who was stationed in his lap.  He then pulled back the curtain of blue hair.
      Behind the two, the youngest triplet brother winced, but shook himself slightly, looking ashamed. For behind Cress’s concealing blue hair was his other eye. A milky-white orb stared back at them. Cress jerked away as Cilan dripped some of the contents of the bottle onto his blind eye.
      “There,” the oldest triplet whispered. “That should do it.” He stood back, but jumped along with his brothers as a rattling sound came from down the stairs.
      “The Gym door.....” whispered Chili, shaking slightly as the wind howled outside, Pansear peering from around his heels.
      Inwardly Cilan pondered the possibility that it was the Gym Leaders, their foster parents, attempting to unlock the door with a slippery-wet key. Or was it a member of Team Renegade, trying to raid the Gym during their plight against the good Trainers? The latter one seemed more likely. But still, he thought it safe to check.
      “Come on, Pansage,” Cilan said to the little Grass Monkey; the two left the room and ran down the spiral staircase into the Gym floor.
      Cilan found that it was much easier to talk about being brave than to actually do it. But bravery is one of the highly-held virtues of Arceus, and his brothers would need the early warning if it did turn out to be an intruder.
      The doors rattled ominously as the small boy and his Pansage crouched in hiding behind a vase in the entry containing an Oran Berry bush. They both waited in silence, when—
      The Gym doors burst open, revealing two sodden Gym Leaders and their Pokémon. Cilan, relieved, ran over to greet them.
      “Mom!” he shouted, and the elderly lady picked him up and hugged him, embracing Pansage as well.
      “Oh, Cilan...” she whispered, kissing him on the forehead when she felt him shivering in both cold and fright. “Everything’s quite alright. Team Renegade won’t be setting paw or foot in Striaton for a long time.”
      Cilan shook slightly as he broke off and began to lead the two Leaders to where his brothers were stationed, not fully believing that the Team—or that Grunt’s Purrlion—were going to be kept from placing hands on glory if they could help it.
      And in the wake of the events of the following days, Cilan—as it turns out—couldn’t have been more right.

    #2.
      “Barry, please stop bouncing,” said a tired voice. The little tan-haired boy tried for all the world to stop running and jumping and tumbling and climbing around his home, but after a few seconds, he was unable to and continued bouncing up and down on the cushions.
      Mrs. Syrin sighed as Barry started cannon-balling repeatedly from the arm of the couch onto the pillows, unable to contain his overwhelming energy.
      Outside dusk had just settled into darkness, the Kricketune playing their sleepy melody on their viola-like arms in the tall grass, when the door swung open on weary hinges. A man, looking drained and exhausted, stepped into the home, a Swellow on his shoulder.
      Palmer sighed. “I’m sorry to say this, but... She’s gone.”
      His wife closed her eyes momentarily, as if hoping that it would all go away when she opened them, little Barry running laps around the room to her right.
      “. . . . . She’s gone? You mean... Bianca’s gone?”
      Palmer looked down, then up toward the Spirit World. “Yes. I just hope for Spirits’ sake that she’s happy wherever the Drifblim take her.”
      Both human and Pokémon looked down in prayer, while the little blur raced around the room, pushing off of furniture as if in a pinball machine. He was too young to understand what his older sister was being dragged into, nor was he willing to accept that there was another like him when he met her many years later.

    #3.
      “....@#&% Basculin,” muttered Georgia as she sat on the table in her grandfather’s workshop, eyes blurred with tears of pain.
      “For Keiss’s sake, Zenn, just take her to the doctor!”
      Zenn, the aged woodworker, stood at eye-level with his granddaughter, making the last adjustments to the contraption to replace the three fingers she had lost to the giant Basculin.
      “. . . . . There, that’s the last string. All better, now!” He beamed at Georgia. She just glared at him. Wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her sleeve, Georgia tried out the replacement, and found that she could move the middle and thumb fingers on her right hand and the pinkie on her left just as well as before, though the fakes were slightly longer than the others.
      Her mom picked her up, though the pink-haired girl squirmed out of her grasp, accepting the pair of yellow gloves from the older lady.
      Georgia put them on, sighing and thinking, I’m never taking off these gloves.......

    #4.
      “You want it?” one of the older boys teased.
      Ash, whimpering while in a headlock but remaining resolute all the same, shouted at the bullies, “You let it go right now!”
      One of the boys looked to the leader and grinned dumbly. “Why? It’s just a dumb Ratatta. You can find one anywhere.”
      “Still—“ Ash grunted as he tried to break out of the older boy’s grasp. “It’s still a Pokémon! And you can’t find one just like it because it’s uniqu—aughh!!”
The boy who had a firm hold on the little hero tightened his grip. “You can say whatever you want. It’s only a common little Sludge pile.”
      Somewhere, deep inside of the young Aura Guardian, something triggered.
Perhaps it was his fervent desire to treat all things as equal—which was more than he had gotten—or maybe it was the way the little Ratatta was begging him, almost as if he could understand its very thoughts... Its pleas for help......
      An Energy-white explosion erupted around the little Guardian, blasting all the boys back and freeing the Ratatta from their torture. In the chaos Ash slipped after it to escape from the bullies and into the safety of the trees.